Pokerface
by percyandpotter
Summary: Bellamy was annoyed. His whole life he had exercised control, mastering the art of a poker face by the age of ten. He didn't openly display emotion to anyone he didn't intimately trust, carefully concealing any feelings away until he could work them out on his own. But when it came to raven - his marble mask cracked, tiny fissures growing into deep crevices as the days went on.


Bellamy was annoyed.

His whole life he had exercised control, mastering the art of a poker face by the age of ten. He didn't openly display emotion to anyone he didn't intimately trust, carefully concealing any feelings away until he could work them out on his own.

But when it came to her - to Raven - his marble mask cracked, tiny fissures growing into deep crevices as the days went on.

Raven, with her fiery temper and her non-existent patience had managed to get under his skin in a time where he really didn't have the luxury to probe his brain about what exactly it was that she was doing to him. It had started the day she had come to his tent - vengeful and beautiful, and honestly, a complete mess. They had ended the night messily - so much so that Bellamy had almost regretted the night at all, and in some ways, he did. In the way that he knew, in his bones, that this wasn't for her at all, but for Finn, in a convoluted twist of logic that was uncharacteristic to Raven's usual composed and calculated decision making. But what he did not regret, not even for a sliver of a second, was the way that he and Raven had fit together. There was a spark no matter how misguided in intention on both ends that Bellamy simply could not box up and file away to the dark recesses of his mind.

In spite of what he fervently believed to be there, Raven either did not feel at all, or just refused to acknowledge it because they hadn't spoken since that night. Well, Bellamy mused, technically they had, to discuss battle strategy and the next concoction raven would brew up to overthrow the mountain men. No, Bellamy hadn't talked in earnest to Raven, just one on one about something other than the impending doom looming over their heads.

It seemed that impending doom had no consideration for the personal problems of the people it threatened to send crashing and burning.

Bellamy was due to leave in less than an hour to infiltrate Mount Weather, despite Clarke's initial apprehensions about the whole idea. In a matter of hours her switch had flipped, and Bellamy's gut was wrenching with nervous energy; a heavy yet somehow simultaneously hollow feeling that something was going to go irrevocably, terribly wrong in the near future made his mouth go dry. Instead of voicing his concern, however, Bellamy only walked behind Raven, who upon hearing of his departure insisted on him coming back to the workshop to go over logistics.

The night was beautiful - exactly the kind Bellamy had dreamed of up in the Ark. The air was still, but not thick, instead saturated with the soothing sounds of crickets constant song. An ink blue sky opened up before him, the sparse star bleeding through every now and then. That was among the few things he missed from the previous home - there, the black sky was littered with stars, the constellations his mother had told him and Octavia stories about easy to point out. On the ground, his forefathers' destruction was apparent; 100 years had passed and still the world was feeling the lasting effects of their poor decisions in a lonely night sky stripped bare of its beauty.

The ground beneath the two had evened out slightly as they neared the Ark, paved down by the constant stream of people marching up and down the dirt path. Inside, raven climbed up on a stool pain etched across her face as she hefted her leg over it. With anyone else, Bellamy would've been over there in a second, helping, but he knew better than that with Raven. With raven, the worst insult you could give was the insinuation that she was incapable of handling herself. Sympathy was the biggest slap in the face, a trait Bellamy of all people understood, but a frustrating wall around Raven's carefully guarded heart all the same. Although Raven may not have felt anything from their little tryst, Bellamy was itching to see past those roadblocks she had spent painstakingly long putting up. Bellamy kept his distance on the other side of her table, sweeping his eyes over her - and it was evidently hers - messy station. Every other metal table in the cramped room was organized and kept up meticulously. Raven's, in contrast, but Bellamy noted, very much her, was a disaster. Blueprints were strewn across the top corner with Raven's angry borderline, ineligible scrawl scribbled across - _how to make accessible for us but hidden for them? - mass produce - need ..._ In another corner were scraps of metal, nails, screws, every single bit and bob someone could ask for scattered haphazardly in any empty space. Finally, Bellamy's eyes fell to Raven. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, eliciting a grin from Bellamy. She looked as cute as she did dangerous, and Bellamy could appreciate that combination. Her hair was pulled back in a typical pony, the small braid woven in proof that Octavia had had her way with Raven's brown locks to her probable excitement and Raven's affectionate reluctance. Although Bellamy could spend hours studying the girl in front of him, he had a place to be, and couldn't continue to put it off any longer despite himself. He was scared but he had a responsibility to fulfill – for Clarke, for his people, for his sister, and for Raven as well. Bellamy wondered how she wormed her way into his heart, another person he couldn't bear to disappoint.

"So… Any particular reason I had to make this stop before I leave? You made it sound urgent," Bellamy pressed, walking around to her.

Raven peered up at him, eyebrows raised. "Why? Got somewhere to be?" Her voice was teasing, and Bellamy was pleased to be able to recognize her mocking tone as an attempt to conceal worry. His heart skipped a beat. Was she worried for him?

He smirked down at her. "Cute."

She angled her body towards him, her nimble fingers, deft and slender, but weathered with cuts and callouses turning dials and pushing buttons on a small box. She hopped off her stool, hobbling only slightly, stepping into Bellamy's space. They were chest to chest, their gazes locked on each other. Slowly Raven leaned in, and Bellamy had to restrain himself from bending down and kissing her right then and there. She was, in all fairness, invading his senses. His body was taut, afraid to loosen up in fear that he would scare her away, not ready to lose the feeling of her soft curves underneath his own body in a way that made his heart ache. She smelt good, earthy and spicy, an odd combination that he couldn't ignore as her head was nearly tucked under his chin. She reached around his torso, her hand pulling out his walkie from his belt, all the while never breaking eye contact. He wondered wildly how she had made the most mundane of tasks tantalizing, cursing her for being able to affect him like this. Finally the spell was broken, as she turned the dials to the same spokes as the small box and another walkie sitting on the table.

"I increased the range of the walkies." She motioned to the small screens of the two devices. "Now we can communicate even when you're inside the tower. I'll be there when you need me." The last few words were tacked on as an afterthought, rushed and breathy. She slid his walkie back into its spot, turning away.

"You should go. It'll be easier to get in at night." She was gripping the metal table, knuckles white as the skin was pulled tight. She didn't turn to see him off, instead opting to make herself look busy as she fiddled with a wrench and another broken thing she had to fix.

Idly, Bellamy wondered if she realized the irony of her work. While she worked tirelessly to repair, to make new of what was void of life, she avoided her own fragility in the wake of all the horribleness she had had to endure.

He wanted to reach out and spin her to him and just - hold her - in an effort to make her feel safe for even a minute, but Bellamy knew that whether they were up in Ark or on the ground, Raven didn't need someone else to provide her with security. Instead he turned slowly on his heel, clearing his throat with his hand pushing on the door. "Well... Goodbye raven. May we -"

"Don't." Her reply was sharp, sending her latest project clattering on the ground. She had closed the space between them in three quick strides, and there were only inches separating them.

"Don't make this a big thing. Don't make this a hard goodbye, Bell."

And suddenly, Bellamy was furious - at who and for what he was unsure. For her, maybe, and her blatant ease at ignoring him and everything they had had between them for the past few weeks. At Clarke, for brazenly sealing off Bellamy's terrible fate. At Abby, at Kane, for understanding too late, how many shades of grey there truly were.

"You need to get your head out of your ass, Reyes. This is a hard goodbye. Could be our last one," he growled, unsure of why he wanted to be so spiteful.

Instead of the unrestrained fury Bellamy was expecting, had become accustomed to, in fact, Raven simply bit her lip and furrowed her brows. Immediately, Bellamy's angry resolve broke, and he was torn at having to leave this - what could have been, what _should_ have been between them. Just as he had decided to leave, to put as much distance between himself and his undoing, Raven leaned up, cupping his face in her small hands.

"I don't do goodbyes, Blake."

And with that, her lips were on his, in the sweetest, softest, stomach churning kiss Bellamy had ever received. Her lips, chapped from the heat, but warm and full touched his own light as a feather, and he, with equal gentleness coaxed her mouth open, his tongue finding hers. After what seemed like mere seconds and long hours all at once, they pulled away, Bellamy stealing a few more chaste kisses before leaning his forehead on hers. His hands had found her waist, while hers rested on the nape of his neck, carding through his shaggy hair.

"I don't do goodbyes - so don't make this into one. Just - just act like this isn't a big deal. Like we'll see each other soon, and both of us will be okay." At this, raven had burrowed into the crook of his neck, and was clinging to Bellamy like he was her anchor. He hadn't seen her this vulnerable since Finn - Bellamy felt pleased that again, he could be the one to see her like this; vulnerable and real, without the façade she put up for show. Slowly he, peeled her back, only to kiss her again, with more urgency, with more of their usual fire. While their previous kiss had made his toes curl and his heart swell, this one was them in its entirety. He nipped at her lips, soothing the bites with his tongue soon after, and it felt like they were fire and fire, consuming each other, burning brighter and brighter with each passing second. He had his arms wrapped around her back, itching to be closer but knowing they were as close as could be. Even though Raven refused accept the gravity of this conversation - Bellamy was a realist, and he'd be damned if he died on this mission without giving her some kind od goodbye.

Kissing her nose, absently almost, Bellamy prepared himself to let go, to lose her warmth and softness. "Fine, no goodbyes. Just stay safe, Raven."

"You too, Bellamy. Don't do anything heroic. I can't lose you, even if it's selfish." With one last kiss, she pulled away, turning to her station, resolute on not turning around to see him walk away.

Grinning to himself, Bellamy shouldered his pack and left the ark.

So what if he was walking into a situation that's most likely outcome was his death? Ravens kiss still lingered, and Bellamy brought his fingers to his lips, replaying the moment as he walked through the green of the forest – the smile remained, and for once Bellamy didn't mind that his mask of indifference had fallen away altogether.


End file.
